


Winter Winds

by al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons



Series: This Year's Love [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Sickfic Lite, This Year's Love, Wintry Coziness, brief mentions of snot and phlegm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 08:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons/pseuds/al_ex_an_d_er_hamiltons
Summary: “Come on, David. Let me take care of you.” Patrick said softly.“That’s really not necessary.”Patrick fixed him with his gaze, his mouth set in a determined line as he dropped his hand from David’s face.“I know it’s not necessary, David. I’m not doing it because I feel obligated to. I’m doing it because I want to.”“It won’t be pretty. I’m worse than usual when I’m not feeling good.”“I think I can handle it.”“You say that now-““David,” Patrick cut him off, his voice firm. David tucked his lips in, forcing himself to stop talking. He wasn’t going to do this, continue to push Patrick away when he was being so nice. He was quiet for a moment, then nodded, agreeing to go along with it.Or, David has a bad cold, and very reluctantly agrees to let Patrick see him at his worst.





	Winter Winds

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second in a four-part series, This Year's Love. Each will be a standalone, seasonal-themed story, loosely canon-compliant and meant to take place within the first year of their relationship.
> 
> Shoutout to my beta readers, hullomoon and oscarwildewannabe! Please go check out their work because they're both so great and I appreciate them a lot. 
> 
> Also, I forgot to do this on the first part of the series, but an extra special thank you to my Discord pals for providing outfit inspiration, constructive criticism, and endless amounts of laughter. I've found so much joy and friendship through you guys and I owe you all so much. 
> 
> Title of this comes from "Winter Winds" by Mumford and Sons.

David loved winter. His penchant for a mostly-sweater wardrobe meant he was at his most comfortable in the winter months, able to wear layer upon layer without breaking a sweat. He loved the coziness of sitting inside, hands wrapped around a mug of hot cocoa, watching the snow come down. He loved the smell of fresh evergreen, the twinkle of holiday lights, the sizzle and pop of frying latkes.

What he didn’t love, however, was how winter also came with head colds and flu season. Every year, he inevitably got one really bad bout of illness that meant he would find himself bedridden for days at a time. In the old days, this meant getting matzo ball soup and hot oolong milk tea Postmated to his apartment while he marathoned Sandra Bullock movies by himself, piles of tissues (from the tears and the snot) littering his bed. He was self-aware enough to know that he was more insufferable than usual when he was sick; not being able to breathe, and worse, not being able to taste anything, meant a lot of whining and irrational behavior on his part. Even if he was dating someone at the time (and he used the term “dating” loosely), they kept their distance while David hacked and coughed, unable to stomach this side of him that wasn’t polished and put-together. This was fine with David; he didn’t _want_ any of his previous partners to see him like this, vulnerable and weak, his cool facade in shambles. Experience had taught him that it would later be used against him, thrown back in his face as emotional blackmail. It was easier to keep them out until he was back to being himself- or at least the version of himself that people liked.

The last two winters in Schitt’s Creek meant relying on the sympathy of his family and Stevie when he wasn’t feeling good, of which there was almost none. He was lucky if he could get someone to bring him a to-go cup of tea or bowl of soup from the cafe while he curled up miserably beneath the thin motel blanket, choking on the clouds of Lysol that Alexis sprayed every time she entered the room. Nurturing was not among the qualities the Rose family possessed.

This year, however, was different. This year, he had Patrick, and Patrick was much better at caregiving than the Rose family.

David tried to fight it at first, attempted to quarantine himself at the motel at the first sign of congestion. Things were going well with them, and David didn’t want to risk any of it by allowing Patrick to see him dying. He texted Patrick from his sickbed, asking him to cover for him at the store for a day or two while he recovered. Patrick had sent back a simple thumbs-up emoji, and David settled in for what he thought would be a lonely weekend of rom coms and Downton Abbey while the winter wind howled outside the drafty motel.

David was dozing, drifting feverishly in and out of consciousness when he heard a knock on the door. He croaked for Alexis to get it, realizing Alexis wasn’t there when another knock came. Groaning, he rolled himself off the bed, using his blanket to turn himself into a human burrito, and cracked the door open to see who was interrupting his convalescence. To his horror, it was Patrick. Praying this was a bad fever dream, David slammed the door shut.

“Um. David?” Patrick’s voice was muffled by the door and filled with concern.

“What are you doing here?” David croaked, cringing at the hoarseness of his own voice.

“I came to check on you. See if you needed anything?”

“I’m fine.”

“No offense, David, but you don’t sound fine. Is there anyone here to help you? Also, can you let me in? It’s cold out here.” David glanced around the room. It was littered with used tissues, empty boxes of cold medicine, and half-drank bottles of orange juice.

“Uhh…hang on…” Abandoning the blanket on the bed, David mustered the little strength he had to scramble around the room, shoving as much trash as he could fit into the tiny motel garbage can. He hurried into the bathroom, shuddering at his reflection in the mirror. His skin was red and dry around his nose from blowing it so often, his eyes baggy and dark. His hair was an unmitigated disaster, cowlicked in some spots and completely flattened on one side. Patrick was knocking on the door again, so David grabbed a beanie from his drawer, pulled it down over his head as far as it would go and prayed Patrick wouldn’t look at him too closely.

When David finally let Patrick inside, his cheeks were pink from the cold. He, too, had a soft knit beanie pulled low over his ears and was wearing a cozy-looking shearling coat. He was letting his hair grow out over the winter, and a few unruly curls stuck out from under the hat. It was apparently snowing out, because there were snowflakes all over him, his shoulders, a few glinting in his eyelashes before melting away. David wasn’t sure if it was the fever, but he felt warmer at the sight of him.

“Hey,” Patrick said softly, his dark eyes shining and huge as they roamed over David, taking it all in. David knew he looked ridiculous. He was wearing a giant hoodie that went past his knees, a pair of leggings, and a set of thick alpaca-wool socks he’d taken from the store, in addition to the hurriedly-donned beanie. Patrick’s lips quirked up into a soft smile, his expression overwhelmingly, ridiculously, impossibly _fond_.

Self conscious, David sat on the bed, drawing his knees up under the hoodie and pulling the front of it up over his nose and mouth before speaking. He wanted to be as small as possible, hidden away in his own pocket of germs and phlegm. “Why aren’t you at the store?”

Patrick sat next to him on the bed, and David shifted further away, towards the headboard. Patrick tilted his head, squinting at David quizzically before answering the question, ticking off his reasons on his fingers as if they were obvious.

“You’re sick. I would rather be with you. A blizzard is heading our way, and the store is dead anyway, so I closed down early.” Every part of this sentence baffled David. Patrick, willingly closing the store early. Patrick, willingly exposing himself to David’s germs and frankly horrifying visage. None of it made sense in his brain, which was admittedly sluggish due to the cold medicine. Patrick must have taken David’s silence as a sign to continue, because he added,

“Ray’s gone for the weekend so I thought, if you wanted, we could park ourselves on his couch under a pile of blankets until you feel better and the storm has passed.” David was still trying to process this as Patrick scooted closer to him on the bed, attempting to tug David’s sweatshirt down from around his face. David pulled back with a little whine, his eyes going wide as he shook his head.

“What are you trying to do? I don’t want you to catch the plague. Or see how repulsive my face is right now.”

“David, whatever bug you caught has inevitably worked its way into my system by now, considering. You know.” Patrick waved a hand, his cheeks flushing, and David took the gesture to mean ‘the fact that we haven’t been able to keep our hands or our mouths to ourselves for the last few months’. “And by the way, you could never look repulsive to me.”

David scoffed, but didn’t fight it again as Patrick gently pulled his sweater down and swiftly pressed a soft, chaste kiss onto David’s lips. He then laid his hand on David’s cheek, which felt nice and cool against his feverish skin. David leaned into his hand, covering it with his own and closing his eyes for a moment. David never grew weary of this, the surprising way Patrick wanted to be in contact with him at all times, handling him gently like something precious and valuable.

“Come on, David. Let me take care of you.” Patrick said softly. David kept his eyes closed for a moment, steeling himself, certain that the look on Patrick’s face would be too much for him to handle. His eyes could be so damn_ loud_ sometimes, saying everything about his feelings that he couldn’t verbalize, and David found it overwhelming even when he was at his best. He sighed, turning his head to plant a kiss on the palm of Patrick’s hand before opening his eyes.

“That’s really not necessary.”

Patrick fixed him with his gaze, his mouth set in a determined line as he dropped his hand from David’s face.

“I know it’s not necessary, David. I’m not doing it because I feel obligated to. I’m doing it because I want to.”

“It won’t be pretty. I’m worse than usual when I’m not feeling good.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“You say that _now_-“

“David,” Patrick cut him off, his voice firm. David tucked his lips in, forcing himself to stop talking. He wasn’t going to do this, continue to push Patrick away when he was being so _nice_. He was quiet for a moment, then nodded, agreeing to go along with it.

After a stop at the pharmacy to pick up some supplies, they went to Ray’s, driving slowly through the worsening snowstorm. Once there, Patrick parked David on the couch, fixed him a mug of Sleepytime tea and dosed him with his next round of medications. David watched him puttering around as he set up a medicated humidifier, brought out a pile of blankets, and turned up the thermostat before settling down next to him, his feet propped up on the coffee table and a book in his hand. He patted his lap, looking up at David expectantly.

David stared at him, nonplussed.

“Lay down, David. Relax.”

David rolled his eyes, ignoring this. “What are you reading, anyway?” He nodded towards the book Patrick had picked up from the coffee table. Patrick held the book against his chest, a shy smile on his flushing face.

“It's ...Pride and Prejudice.” David’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He didn’t peg Patrick for the romance novel type; his shelves were filled with business texts and memoirs, the occasional historical fiction. “I know how much you love the film and tv adaptations.”

“But the Keira Knightley version-“ David started to interject before Patrick finished.

“Is by far the best, I know.” Patrick’s smile widened, and something in David’s chest hummed with the unbridled joy of feeling known. “Anyway, I know you want me to see it, but I wanted to read the book first so I could compare.”

“I’ve never actually read it,” David said quietly. Patrick’s eyebrows quirked up in surprise.

“Really?” David shook his head, and Patrick looked at him thoughtfully. He did this sometimes; looked at David with this soft expression on his face, eyes wide, head tilted slightly. It always made David feel a little like Patrick was attempting to see right through him. Sometimes David was almost convinced he could. “Can I… would you like me to read it out loud?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No, I’d like to.”

David’s chest tightened as he got the sensation of deja vu, the same words echoing back at him from the day Patrick had finally asked him out. He vividly remembered the feeling of hope springing up in his chest, even as he tried to squash it back down, certain he was reading farther into things than necessary. David found himself suddenly overwhelmed by it all, thinking about how far they’d come in a handful of months. For most of David’s life, he assumed he’d just jump from relationship to relationship, never finding anyone willing to stick with him through the ebbs and flows, the highs and lows of his life. Somehow, miraculously, Patrick had come to him, not only willing, but wanting to see every possible version of David. David just hoped he liked all of them enough to stick around.

“Please?” Patrick added, practically pouting, snapping David out of his trip down memory lane.

David finally acquiesced, unable to resist Patrick’s gentle but insistent charms any longer. He allowed Patrick to ease him down, laying his head in his lap and spreading a blanket out across him. One hand held the book, while the other gently carded through David’s hair. Patrick cleared his throat, flipping back to the first page, and began reading.

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” Patrick breathed out an ironic laugh at this, a short huff through the nose, before continuing.

The sky outside Ray’s house grew darker, and David could hear the wind howling as snow obscured the view out the windows. David felt himself relax, marveling at the fact that he was in this position, feeling cozy and taken care of, having found someone who didn’t view him as a burden. He closed his eyes, losing himself in Patrick’s gentle voice as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
